


Doctor or Soldier?

by rutledgegirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark!Mycroft, Depression, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels, Reunions, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Unstable!Sherlock, mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutledgegirl/pseuds/rutledgegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was tired. So very tired. He was about to go to sleep forever, when a murder of someone who he already thought dead, was brought to his attention. Now he has to figure out what is going on before something bad happens. As the more he discovers, the less he is sure of those around him. Those he thought dead? Not so dead it seems. Can John keep his sanity intact? And who is going to be the unlikely saviour?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor or Soldier?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my attempt at a fanfiction for the Sherlock fandom. Yeah, uhhhh..... This is just me, no beta or brit-picker. So please, if you hate it, just stop reading it. I am very nervous about this. But if you have constructive things to say, go right ahead!

John stared down at the note on the table. If someone, not knowing the situation, randomly came in and took a look at it, they would probably mistake as a shopping list. Folded and placed on the table next to his wallet so he wouldn't forget either of them on the way out the door. The paper itself was nothing special. Just a scrap of paper torn out of a note book that had been found laying around. 

John knew though. He knew the truth, but only because he wrote it. This was his goodbye, this was his note. He was tired. He had tried to move on, he had gone back to the therapists but had walked out at his last appointment and never looked back.

No one was around any more. John had stopped dating shortly before their last case. Women had long since stopped calling, or even asking for his number. It must have been the dead look in his eyes that he saw in the morning every time he went to shave. Sure there was Greg, and Mrs, Hudson. They always came in to check on him, and he could even remember when Greg had camped out on his couch the first 2 weeks after...... Right, the plan. John shuddered as he gripped the handle of his gun. He was ashamed of himself even as he lifted it against his temple. This was the cowards way out, the easy way. 

Just as he was about to change his mind, he caught a glance of the skull. The skull that he replaced as Sherlock's friend. John had been Sherlock's only friend, according to the Consulting Detective. He replaced the skull that Sherlock carried around and talked to. Now instead of him carrying around a skull, he has a ex-army doctor to follow him around and call him brilliant. And that was the problem. John always followed Sherlock.

Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he heard the door downstairs bang open and someone pounding up the stairs. He quickly hid the gun and was just grabbing the note to hide it when Greg burst in. 

Greg appeared upset and stressed, so John hoped he hadn't seen the crushed note in his hand or the gun placed between the couch cushions. 

"John, thank god you're here. There has been a murder-" Greg started to say.

"No!" John had to cut him off. "You know I wasn't the one that solved the cases." He started to turn towards the stairs to go up to his room.

"John, no! It's not like that. There is a reason I'm here. It's the identity of the body." Greg followed him up.

John paused half way up the stairs, and looked at the man following him. A knot started to form in his gut. "Who?"

A serious look spread crossed Greg's face, he took a deep breath and said a name that John thought he would never hear.

"Irene Adler. She was found dead at St. Bart's on the roof. I know you don't want to hear about this, I know you thought she was dead. Hell we ALL did. But there was something else, she was holding a picture." Greg took out a evidence bag from his pocket and handed it to John. John took it with shaking hands. He looked down and felt the colour leave his face.

"What? Why would-?" He managed to get out before he felt his knees give out. Greg just managed to catch him before the doctor could fall down the stairs. In his shaking hands was a picture he knew wasn't taken with his permission. This was a picture of one of his fondest memories of Sherlock. This was a picture of them sitting together on a couch, a couch that was, and still is in, Buckingham Palace. The one where John was wearing his regular clothes but the Consulting Detective was in his famous sheet. The one where they were looking at each other and laughing. Laughing because they were there, in the Palace, and Sherlock had refused to put his pants on.

"Come on John, let's get some tea, OK? We will find out what's going on."

John could only nod, in the back of his mind his inner doctor was telling him it was shock. 

The only thing John could think at the moment, as Greg helped him back to the damn couch, was that it was about to get less boring.

**Author's Note:**

> Also just to give you a heads up, I know this is short but this is just to kind of dip my toe in the water before I jump head first into the ocean of Sherlock fics. I will try to update but it depends on the response. Also cause I have different ideas on how this is going to end.


End file.
